Battle Bond: An Urban Fantasy Dragon Series (Death Before Dragons #2) - Lindsay Buroker Page 0,71

hit were deflating with impressive speed—but there wasn’t much point. Sindari had them on the run. So, being the mature person I was, I took out my phone and recorded their flight as Sindari leaped back and forth, evading the men stupid enough to still be in the truck beds attempting to shoot him. I was fairly certain my stoic, regal tiger was deliberately taunting them—and having fun doing it. By now, most of them had lost their weapons.

Once the wobbling, lopsided vehicles turned onto the road that led to the parking lot, I stopped recording.

“Maybe it’s time to start a YouTube channel,” I said. Nin and Zoltan would call it marketing. Who wouldn’t want to hire me after they saw how delightfully effective Sindari was?

As I turned, trusting he would be back, and strode up the trail toward the Jeep, I sensed the goblins scattering deeper into the brush. Soon, their auras faded from my awareness.

If they felt any gratitude or cared that I’d stepped in, I would probably never know it. That was fine, though there was a wistful part of me that wanted them to know. It would be nice if some members of the magical community believed I was a good person and only hunted the legitimate criminals among them.

As I got closer to the Jeep, I noticed something on the ground next to it. Ugh, had those idiot poachers done something to it? The tires weren’t flat, and I didn’t see any bullet holes… Was that a paint bucket? And… brushes?

When I stepped around to the driver’s side, I found myself staring at stick figures painted in red on the door. My first thought was that it was mindless graffiti, but there was a definite message being conveyed. A stick dragon with a round belly was knocking a stick person—someone with a braid of long hair—into a ravine. At the bottom of the ravine, the stick person was duplicated, this time lying dead among jagged rocks.

Sindari caught up to me as I considered two words written next to the stick figures in an unfamiliar language.

“How’s your Goblin?” I was positive the truckers hadn’t done this.

I understand many languages. That’s your name.

“Val?”

Mythic Murderer.

“Wonderful. And that’s also my fate, I suppose.”

I wouldn’t worry about it. Goblins are known more for being mischievous than prophetic.

“I don’t feel comforted.”

20

Your new colleague is coming, Sindari informed me.

I’d pulled a towel out of the Jeep and was doing my best to wipe off the paint that hadn’t yet dried completely. It wasn’t working well.

He’s not a colleague. I sensed the approaching dragon aura and looked up in time to spot violet eyes sailing into view over the trees.

I thought you were trying to get him to see you as an equal. A dragon would typically think of your relationship as something closer to master-slave.

In that case, I guess he can be my colleague.

I thought you might see it that way.

Zav landed on the road in front of us, radiating power like a sun. Too bad he hadn’t appeared earlier. His fanged maw, muscled body, glowing eyes, and sheer size might have convinced the hunters not only to flee but to never step foot in this forest again.

Even with his wings tucked in, the trees to either side of the road hemmed in his great dragon form. I wondered if the foliage on his world was courteous enough to grow farther apart.

Zav shifted into his human form, opting for his usual silver slippers and black, silver-trimmed robe. The rain, mud, and puddles all around might have suggested hiking boots and a poncho, but maybe shifters could only change their forms, not their clothing. If so, that was too bad. Zav wearing a vibrantly colored Mexican poncho would have amused me vastly.

As he walked toward me, wind blowing damp leaves off the trees and batting at his robe, I debated how to admit my lack of progress without sounding like I’d been slacking off these last two days. Or like I was incompetent. Willard had only given me this assignment this morning, but I’d been researching it longer. I’d hoped to be able to hand him the location of Dob’s lair, but all I’d found were poachers tormenting goblins.

“You’re early,” I told him. “I’m only doing preliminary scouting.”

Zav stopped in front of me. “You assisted magical beings against humans.”

I shrugged, surprised he’d gotten here soon enough to see that. I tried not to feel a twinge of disappointment that he knew about it